


Prophecy 3989 - "He is not what he says he is."

by j520j



Series: Everybody Loves Aziraphale [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Fluff and Crack, No Smut, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-07-24 01:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j520j/pseuds/j520j
Summary: Some prophecies may be misinterpreted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of my Crack/Aziraphale series! - one-shot stories. You don't need to read the others to understand this one.

Anathema was frustrated. She simply couldn't find the Antichrist, doesn't matter how much she invested all her best detection methods in the mission. She knew he should be in Tadfield, but didn't know where.

“Well, it could be worse. He could be in London,” muttered the witch, trying to see the bright side. “I would have to look for him among nine million inhabitants. Tadfield must have, hmm, two thousand? ”

The thought of checking every person in the village seemed annoying, but it was the only way. After all, if Agnes's prophecies were right (well, they were always right!) the end of the times would come in a few days.

"Better go home and cool down," she decided, closing the book and taking her bike.

........................................

BAM !!!

She didn't even see what hit her.

After the abrupt impact, the girl's body flew a few meters and fell into the grass. In an attempt to parry the fall, Anathema stretched her arms unconsciously. She lost her breath as she felt that the radius and ulna of her right forearm had broken into what was probably an open fracture.

As a self-preservation mechanism, she lost consciousness to soothe the pain.

........................................

She doesn't know how much time has passed. One hour? Two? One week? Maybe just a few seconds? Anathema awoke to hear a firm voice exclaim:

“Let there be light!"

And there was light.

"Nnnhhhgg ..." she raised her head. Above her a pleasant light illuminated her body. With her vision still a little blurry, she noticed the silhouette of two people, one darker and one lighter. “How… the hell did you do that?"

A moment later the light was gone. Was it an illusion caused by pain?

Either way, she soon began to feel her right forearm again. It didn't seem to hurt anymore, although it was a little numb. Her entire body felt numb as gentle arms wrapped around her and helped her to her feet.

"I-I think I hit my head ..." she murmured, trying to understand the sensations that clouded her senses. She felt fine, though she had nearly died on impact. "... my bike..."

“Amazingly resilient, these old machines!” said one man, lifting his bike. 

Anathema studied him for a few seconds. He was blond, in his forties, a little overweight, with sky blue eyes and a clear smile. His voice was soft, like a gentle uncle giving his favorite niece a gift. He dressed pompously, highlighting his coat that appeared to have been taken from a Victorian-era museum.

She saw him argue with another man, thinner, taller, redder, and wearing sunglasses despite the night, about giving her a lift. The redhead seemed to be against it, but the gentle uncle insisted. The discussion ended when the blonde put her bike in the car's bike rack.

If Anathema's witch senses were right (well, every once in a while they went wrong ...) those two men were weirder than they looked.

.......................................

The hit to the head should have been stronger than Anathema thought, for while she was inside that old Bentley she was sure her bike had gears, but when she got home her bike was gearless. _Whatehell?!?_

The blonde led her out of the car elegantly, taking her by the hand like a gentleman. She smiled, realizing his effort to be as kind as possible. Men like him were scarce in those days.

"Come on, angel!" exclaimed the red-haired man. "We have to go!"

 _Oh._ Anathema looked disappointed to hear that, but smiled. _They are gay._ She sighed, and entered her house.

......................................

"Did you use the pendulum, dear?"

"Mom, I'm not a child!"

Anathema was discussing via Skype with her mother. She was well aware of the importance of her work in locating the antichrist and stopping the end of the world. She wasn't as dumb or irresponsible as she looked.

“Mi amor, remember: the answers are always in the book.”

_Yes the book._

_The book...?_

At that moment Anathema realized that she was as dumb and irresponsible as she looked.

.....................................

“The book has been in my family for three hundred years and I lost it! I lost it!!!! ”the girl threw potted plants on the ground, smashing them into a thousand pieces.

She was frustrated. She never imagined making such a mistake. Now she would never find the antichrist.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!!!_ she thought punching her head. _If only I could remember Bentley's license plate ... ugh! Those two stupid uncles! Oh ... no, it wasn't their fault, it was my fault! I should have paid more attention where I keep my things! Now my book can be anywhere! Anywhere...!_

"Uh, excuse me?"

She turned to hear a familiar voice call for her. Anathema observed, behind the fence of her house, the same blond man who helped her after her accident. He carried a book in his hands. Her book.

"You found it!!!" was the first thing the girl said, running towards the man and taking the book roughly from his hands. “Oh, I can hardly believe it! My book!"

"Er ... yes, I found it." the man cleared his throat. "You forgot it in my friend's car and I thought it was okay to return it."

"Thank you! I would be lost without my book! Really thank you, sir ...? ”

“Fell. My name is Fell.”

“Well, Mr. Fell, thank you so much! Please, come in!”

“Oh, I'm in a hurry now, miss!”

“Nonsense, come in! Let me serve you some tea with cake. It's the least I can do."

"Cake?" The man's face lit up. "Well, if it's not bothersome, I'll accept it!"

..............................

Anathema served the man the fourth slice of cake. She was surprised to see how much he ate well and seemed to have a fondness for sweets.

"How about some chocolate?" she offered, after tea was over.

"Oh, I can't accept it, I think I'm already being abused too much of your hospitality."

“Don't worry, you brought my book back. An honest attitude that few people do today. Free refills."

The girl watched the man get fed up with pleasure. It was, in a way, even a pretty sight. He didn't stuff himself like a fat man at McDonalds, but he ate with a certain elegance that showed almost a reverence for food.

"I'm done!" he announced pompously after taking the chocolate. “Your cake is wonderful, Miss Device! If you opened a store in London you would be very successful! ”

"Thanks. Do you live in London?"

“Yes, I have a book store in Soho. If you want to show up to say hello, just come to this address.”

The man handed her a card. 'A. Z. Fell' was the name of the store.

"What does 'A' and 'Z' mean?" the girl asked curiously.

Mr. Fell's eyes widened, as if the question was unexpected enough that he didn't even know the answer.

"Yeah ... huh, the 'A' is my uh, name, of course! Is... A-a-angel."

“Angel? What a peculiar name!" the witch smiled, imagining that perhaps the man was blushing at the fact that a girl was asking his given name. “Well, so far ‘Anathema’ is not a very common name either! My mother is Spanish and at the time she had contact with the book, she didn't even know what 'Anathema' meant, but she named me by that name.”

"Your mother? Is this her book? ”

"It's been passed down from generation to generation by my family. I am the current owner.”

"Oh, don't tell me you would be... uh ... a descendant of Agnes Nutter!"

"Yes, I am." the woman lowered her head, as if that was something she didn't want to talk about. “My whole life has followed all the dictates of these prophecies. I confess that when I was a child I thought they were pretty silly. But in the end, when you know how to interpret them, they make sense. ”

"Yes, I suppose so ... uh ... this book, it's the holy grail of the books of prophecy."

“Well, you certainly understand books better than me, so it must be. By the way, I must thank you twice for returning the book to me. A less honest bookseller would have simply stayed with him. ”

“Er… indeed, indeed! I… I need to go now!” the man got up in a hurry. “Thank you so much for the tea, the chocolate and everything, Miss Device! And if you want to show up at my store, you can come at any time of day or night, because my flat is upstairs. Maybe your family hasn't saved some more original manuscripts from Agner Nutter? I'd love to see them. ”

"I need to ask my mom, but if there are, I lend it to you."

"Thank you! Until next time."

"Wait!" the woman called and the man froze on his way to the door. He turned his head slowly, as if caught in the act. "You still haven't said what 'Z' means."

The blonde took a few seconds to understand.

"Ah yes! ‘Z’ is ... iis ... 'Zira ’.”

Before Anathema could comment, the man was gone.

....................................................

That night the witch allowed herself to take a few hours off in search of the beast. She was so relieved to have her book back that she felt as if all her problems were already solved.

They weren't, of course, but she was still enjoying the good feeling of having her skin saved by Mr. Fell. _Maybe I should really pay him a visit._ she thought. _He probably read the book, so maybe he could help me with the meaning of some prophecies that still mean nothing to me._

She began flipping through the pages, reading the latest entries, those that had a direct bearing on the end of the world.

_**Prophecy 3008:** When that the angel readeth these words of mine, in his shoppe of other menne's books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open thine eyes to understand. Open thine eyes and rede, I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth grow cold."_

The woman raised an eyebrow, thinking of Mr. Fell. _Angel was his name, wasn't it?_ and wondered if the prophecy had a direct connection with him. _After all, he had a book store and certainly enjoyed cocoa._

But something else caught her attention. As she flipped through the book she felt that the pages seemed too smooth, too conserved. And damn her if that book didn't smell old.

"Wait ... what ?!" she opened the book's first page, where eleven years earlier she had drawn a crayon drawing. As she inspected the page, she realized that the drawing was still there, but it didn't appear to be a scribble on top of the page, but was printed on it.

"This is _not_ my book, it's a copy!" she said, rising from her bed, furious. "Mr. Fell stole my original book!"


	2. Chapter 2

It was eleven PM when Anathema arrived in London's Soho district, running with her bicycle. She was breathless, but anger gave her strength.

She had no trouble finding Mr. Fell's huge book store. Although the property was closed, she could see lights upstairs. The man should be awake.

“Hey Fell! Come here now!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “Come here immediately!”

After a moment, a window opened. The blond man appeared, completely confused. He removed the vintage glasses from his face as he recognized the girl.

“Miss Device! Well… I confess I didn't expect to see you so soon! ”

"It's better than seeing the police, you asshole!"

"Uh, police?"

"You know what I'm talking about!" she was shaking the fake copy of Agnes's book. “This is not the original book! I can recognize a photocopy when I see one! Give me back my family's book! ”

The man widened his blue eyes, swallowing several times and looking around, unsure of what to do.

"Err ... w-would you like to come up here to, huh, d-discuss the matter privately?!"

“Do you think I'll fall for this trick?! Get in there for you to do who knows what with me?! Get down here and with my book, you southern pansy! Otherwise I will scream so much that they will hear me there in Stonehenge!”

“Alright, alright! I'll be right down, geez!”

Anathema started counting on the clock. If Fell took more than two minutes, she'd call the police. Fortunately, he appeared in less time, opening the doors of his store with a guilty expression and the book in his hands.

"Your book is here" he said, his voice weak.

"Great!" she grabbed the book, but realized that the bookseller was still holding it tightly. "Hey, let it go!"

“Miss Device, I… I owe you huge apologies! I didn't act right with you.” his voice denoted legitimate regret. “Maybe we can discuss this better as soon as you cool your head! Why don't we go to a pub to talk and discuss the matter more..." 

"Too late! I don't want conversation, I just want my book back! ”

“I can afford it! Give your price, I'll pay! ”

“The book is not for sale!”

"I can pay thousands of pounds for it!"

"Not for a million!" annoyed, she gave a very strong tug to get the books out of the man's hands. It was successful. "And don't you dare... oh ...!"

The pull was too strong and Anathema went off balance. She ended up falling right in the middle of the street just as a speeding blue car was passing.

"No!" she heard Angel exclaim.

Covering her head, she braced herself for the impact, but the blow never came. Her scream was drowned out by the sound of metal being crumpled and twisted, as well as the smell of gasoline that filled the air. When she opened her eyes, she realized that the car about to hit her was upside down, three wheels up and one of them running free in the streets. Beside it was an unknown man, his face white with dread.

"What...? W-what the fuck happened to me?!? How did I get out of… ” he exclaimed, looking at the broken vehicle. "Oh no! My car!"

 _What was that?!_ Anathema could again feel that strangeness she had the night she was run over by Bentley. Feeling that something strange had happened, but she couldn't say exactly what it was.

But the girl didn't have time to think about it, for as soon as she looked to the side, she saw a pool of blood forming under the car's casing, an inert hand stained red over it. She could recognize the glow of the golden ring on the little finger.

"Mr. Fell!" She shouted, approaching the scene of the accident. “Oh, Goddess! Oh, beloved Goddess!”

The man had been hit the moment the vehicle overturned. The girl approached him and realized that the bookseller was not crushed by the car. But the blood streaming from his face and chest was no good sign.

Anathema held his head carefully. _He's breathing!_ she concluded, a mixture of relief and fear. _But ... all this blood! He has shards of glass everywhere!_

"My car ...!" still whined the man beside them on the street.

The girl had no idea how the driver got out of the vehicle without a scratch, but she had no time to think about it. By the way, she couldn't think of anything so desperate she was. Anathema felt that this accident was her fault.

“Mr. Fell! P-please wake up! I ... I d-didn't want this to happen! I didn't want... ! Are you listening to me? Please, answer me!"

She noticed that the blond began to move his eyelids, as if he wanted to open them but had no strength. His right hand rose feebly for support. The witch held the man's plump hand, it was wet with sweat.

"I ... I shouldn't have come here to make this scandal!" the girl muttered, touching her forehead lightly to Fell's bloody forehead. “I'm sorry, I… I should have solved this problem differently with a cooler head! Oooh, I'm so sorry! I just ... I just wanted my book back! I just wanted to accomplish my predestined mission! I… I just wanted to… ” she wiped a tear. " ... go home!"

When she opened her eyes again to cry some more, Anathema realized she was somewhere else.

She was at her home in Tadfield. More precisely in the middle of the living room, with the unconscious bookseller in her arms.

...............................

Anathema woke up from her fainting two hours later. The wall clock read half past one in the morning.

She felt her right hand numb, as did her legs. It was at this moment that she realized she was lying on the floor of her living room, with Mr. Fell lying on her lap and holding her right hand. The witch jerked to her feet, knocking the man's head with a thud on the floor.

“Ah… ah… what?!? It w-wasn't a d-dream...?!”

She was really at home in Tadfield. At her feet, the blond man was still unconscious, with blood all over his face and chest. The girl knelt cautiously and took his wrist. He was alive, but didn't look very well.

Anathema ran to the phone and thought of calling an ambulance, but then thought: _What do I say to them ?! ‘Errr ... hello, I have a patient for you! Here in Tadfield, but the crash site was in London! Yeah! A car overturned on him! The driver? Oh, he was unharmed outside the car when all this happened! Why didn't we go straight to a hospital? Well, because we teleported, for no apparent reason, to my house. Oh, and by the way, I'm a foreigner and I don't have travel insurance! ’_

With difficulty, she carried the man to her bed. She laid his head gently on a pillow, removed his coat and shirt, and began to provide first aid.

She washed all the blood from his face and chest and removed some shards of glass from his skin with tweezers and bandaged the larger cuts. She also took advantage of some first aid that only witches can do. She burned incense sticks, made herbal infusions, and placed colored crystals on some points of Fell's body, waiting for them to work. At five in the morning the man's face looked flushed, his pulse was stronger, and he seemed to be breathing better. Relieved, Anathema decided to do one last check, consulting the bookseller's aura.

_What is this?_

His aura was at least... different. Not shown any of the color spectra she was used to. Fell's aura seemed to have two layers: the exterior was yellow, common to intelligent and rational people; and the interior was white with silver beams, which indicated a purity of mind almost impossible for a human being. It was the kind of thing that could only arise in ascended beings, such as angels.

But the bookseller was neither one thing nor the other. And he was both at once: a human creature and a spiritual creature.

The woman didn't quite understand what this meant. _Maybe ... maybe I'm already so exhausted that my aura reading isn't working properly?_ she thought, scratching her head. After shrugging, she decided to go into the living room, lie down for a while on the couch.

As she rested, Anathema flipped through her book - the original - to make sure he had retrieved the right book. She began flipping through the pages. Deep down, she was still feeling guilty. The bookseller was cheatter, but he was careful to offer a rather reliable copy instead of the original book.

 _How could he do this in such a short time?_ thought the girl, comparing the two editions. Then, randomly, she opened to read another prophecy.

 **Prophecy 3819** _"When Robin's blue chariot inverted be, three wheels in the sky, a man with bruises be upon your bed, aching his head for willow fine."_

If she intended to take a nap, reading that passage completely drove her to be awake.


	3. Chapter 3

It was eight in the morning when a few moans of pain came from Anathema's room. Mr. Fell had awakened.

"Oooouch...! W-where...?" he looked around, visibly confused. "Where am I? W-what happened? ”

"I can answer the first question."

The man almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Anathema sitting at the foot of the bed, her dark eyes watching him with a mixture of curiosity and irritation. A cup of coffee in her right hand and Agnes's book in her lap.

"You're at my house," continued the girl, giving Angel no time to say anything. "Now, as we came to my house instantly after the London accident, this is you who will have to answer."

"Ummm ..." the blonde blinked a few times, the question seemed to have made the pain in his body get worse. "What d-do you mean?"

“I mean we travel from London to Tadfield like magic. Could you explain how this happened? ”

"M-maybe, uh, an ineffable contingencie done this?"

"Nice try, but I want you to give me an answer other than a question."

"Oh!" now the man looked visibly disturbed. “I… I didn't do this! Word of honor, it wasn't me!”

"Are you telling me it wasn't you who brought us here?"

"Exact! It was not me! It must have been ... you! ”

"Me?!"

"Yes! I mean, look at my state! I was ran over! Why would I even want to be here instead of in a hospital in the first place?”

 _He is avoiding lying!_ thought Anathema, frowning. _Hiding the truth is different from lying._

“Hmmm, yes, maybe it was me who brought both of us to my house. But how did this happen?”

“You're a witch, right? You must know magic.”

"I can assure you, among my witch powers, no teleportation is included!" the girl had to hold back a laugh. “I could never bring us here just by my will! Maybe it was some kind of magical power coming from someone else?”

"Err... maybe."

"Do you know whose power is?"

"Maybe."

“If you say _maybe_ again, I swear I'll punch you! Say, whose power brought us here?!”

The thin lips on the man became a straight line of indignation. He was at all costs preventing the words from escaping his lips. There was fear in the man's blue eyes, which often lowered his eyes to avoid the witch's fierce gaze.

"You're not who you say you are!" Anathema said, lifting the book that was in her lap. "It's here! In Agnes's book! ”

"What you mean?!"

“Stop dodging! The book prophesied everything! My accident before yesterday, your accident yesterday, and now it is narrating the facts of the present!” the witch opened the book on a page-marked page: 

**Prophecy 3989 -** _"He is not what he says he is."_

"Uh, lass, don't you think you're following Agnes's prophecies too literally?"

“They have served me very well so far! And if I want to stop Armageddon, I have to keep following it, because there is little--"

"Oh, by Jove!" the man leapt out of bed. “I completely forgot about Armageddon! God, what time is it ?! Crowley must be freaking out about my disappearance!”

“Hey, you can stop there! You still owe me explanations!”

“Miss Device, please, be reasonable!” Angel raised his hands defensively. “There are more important things at stake than… than…!”

“Than the truth ?! Well, I need the true to stop the end of the world! And you will tell me the truth now! You're not really human, are you?”

"...!"

"Answer me!" the girl demanded, pulling him by the bandages closer to her. They were so close to each other that their noses almost touched. Panicked blue eyes were wide as they were pierced by furious brown eyes.

And it was at this time that Fell tilted his head and kissed Anathema.

The kiss was chaste and only their lips touched. It didn't last more than ten seconds until he began to slowly back away, his tired, expectant eyes on hers.

In other circumstances, the witch would have slapped the bookseller. She would have kneed him between his legs and crumpled his head with the heaviest thing next to her hand. But the truth was, she had never received a kiss like that, so tender, so full of affection. Fell's face also made her feel safe, not an expression like 'Score, Big Boy!' or anything like that.

"Apologies!" he said, lowering his head. "When all this mess is over I'll tell you the truth, but now I need to go!"

Before Anathema had a chance to do anything, the blonde had already grabbed his coat on the hanger and was out the door.

........................................

"What was that?!" the witch stood in place, touching her lips gently. "That guy, he ...!"

Anathema was in pain that was hard to describe, but she had felt something similar before. It was the day before, when she believed she had lost her precious family book. A similar feeling was pressing on his chest at the moment, but it seemed worse. As if she had suddenly missed something even more important than Agnes's book. But what could be more important than it?

The aforementioned book was lying on the floor at Anathema's feet. Generally, when in doubt about anything, the girl would always consult the book of prophecy. The answers were always there, even if she didn't see them at first.

But this time the witch felt the urge to ignore it and run after the bookseller.

"Mr. Fell!" she opened the cabin door and looked around. The man was nowhere. “Ugh, no, no, no! You will not escape me!”

........................................

She was tired, thrilled, and had been sleepless for over twenty-four hours, but the witch wouldn't let this situation get out of hand. Few things have gotten out of hand in her life, and every time this has happened, it has been very unpleasant.

But this time it was different. It was more than just irritation at being mistaken or fooled, it was a much deeper pain that she didn't know exactly how to describe. She never felt anything like it and no Agnes prophecy would have prepared her for it.

Anathema was riding her bike along the road, the strong wind that was blowing punished her face and, in a way, undermined her forces. She paused a moment to rest and hated herself for it.

 _Is it possible that I can't do anything right?!_ she punished herself. _A key piece of Armageddon prophecy was in my face all the time and I let it out ! Not possible, did Agnes prophesy how useless I, her descendant, would be?!_

The wind began to get stronger and stronger. So hard that it pushed the bike and made the girl fall to the ground. The witch looked skyward and realized that a strong storm was brewing.

Worse than that, it was a hurricane.

The girl looked at that powerful force of nature coming toward her and began to laugh. _Ah ... it's over! I failed!_ that's what she thought, moments before the wind got so strong it began to carry her.

Her body was lifted from the ground like nothing, her clothes being torn by the violence of the wind. Her hair covering her face and the loud sound hurting her eardrums. There was nothing she could do, nowhere to hold on, just let herself be blown away.

_Like it has been my whole life! I was just carried from one place to another, unable to make my own way!_

Tears streamed from her eyes and were blown away by the wind. Anathema was just waiting for the hurricane to tear her apart or release her in a free fall of over 30 meters.

But the bitter cold that punished her skin was mitigated when something protected and supported her body.

The witch opened her eyes and what she saw were a pair of white wings, glistening as snow under the sun. And in the middle of them was a whitish blonde's hair above the worried face of a middle-aged gentleman.

The wind began to stop and Anathema could feel that she was being carried by protective arms. The sound of the hurricane has ceased and she can hear a pair of feet landing heavily on the ground as she herself feels part of the impact of the landing. She was still in her savior's arms when she murmured:

“Mr. Angel Z-zira Fell. Y-you're ... you're an angel, aren't you?”

The man smiled, giving the girl the answer she needed before she fainted from exhaustion.


	4. Chapter 4

Anathema awoke in her bed. She had horrible nightmares involving stolen books, car accidents and hurricanes. Then the nightmare turned into a sweet dream when a charming daddy carried her in his arms, shielding her from the harsh wind with his angelic wings.

 **Prophecy 4020** \- _Let the wheel of fate turn, let harts enjoin, there are other fyres than mine; when the whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another._

She widened her eyes. _It was not a dream!_ and sat on the bed. For a moment the girl was worried that she might have overslept, but no. She had slept little more than an hour. The witch was in her house. The hurricane had passed and her cabin was miraculously intact. Another miracle is that although she hadn't slept before, had been dragged by a tornado, and had fainted from exhaustion shortly before, she was feeling refreshed. As if an angel's blessing had touched her.

"... time is runing up..." a voice with a strong Scottish accent came from her living room.

"... she can't be alone ..." another voice, one she knew well, also came from the room.

"... angel in shining armor, eh?"

"... don't be absurd ..."

"... world is at risk... "

"... right, right, I hope she gets well and forgives me... "

The girl got up from her bed and, when entering the room, saw Crowley and Aziraphale talking. They were already out the door when she stopped them.

"Hey, you two!" she exclaimed. "Wait!"

"Miss Device?" the angel looked surprised to see her standing. "Have you woken up?"

"The crazy American!" said the redhead man, with jest. "What do you want? Get hit by a car again? Or maybe you'd rather be carried away by the next hurricane that will come down from the sky soon?”

"You're both going to stop the end of the world, aren't you?" the girl said, taking a haughty step forward and getting between the two men. "I will go with you guys!"

"What? No!" the angel said categorically. "Absolutely not!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's going to be dangerous! Much more dangerous than it has been so far! There will be fight, and scary supernatural entities! You'll be in grave, grave danger!"

"Thank you for your concern, but I will anyway."

"No, you won't!" now the blonde's voice was authoritative.

"Mr. Fell, you're not my daddy!"

"Hah, are you sure?" Crowley questioned with a mischievous smile.

"Lass, please ...!" Aziraphale's voice was pleading. "You still haven't fully recovered from the shock."

“I am stronger than you think, angel. And I must do this. It is my destiny! And you and no one can stop me. ”

"Angel?!" the red-haired man widened his eyes behind his sunglasses.

"Yes, she already knows, Crowley!" Aziraphale gave a remorseful smile. "Well, since I can't stop you, then you'll be by my side all the time!"

"You bet I will!" the witch smiled, holding the man's arm.

.....................................

Anathema grew up believing in the supernatural. She was a witch, after all, but not a lifetime dedicated to mysticism prepared her for what she was going to see that day.  
The four horsemen of the apocalypse, with their terrible black auras. Angels and demons talking like bureaucrats in a meaningless meeting. Flaming swords, army machine guns, unbalanced scales and the presence of Satan himself.

And finally, everything ended anticlimatically when a suburban man appeared, calling for his taken away son who had invaded a foreign military protection area.

And in the midst of all this, the scorched remains of Agnes Nutter's book flying through the air. And the last prophecy, a warning to an angel and a devil to change their faces, sentenced the end of Non-Armageddon.

In the end, everything turned out well.

But it wasn't over yet.

.................................

Anathema burned the manuscript of Agnes's new book, the one that would continue to make predictions for a few hundred more years.

 _Enough._ she thought, watching the ashes spread across the grass of Tadfield Woods. _I want to be free of this! Finally, I want to make my own decisions without worrying about predictions!_

In the end, not all of Agnes's prophecies came out one hundred percent as planned. In the book, the girl was reserved a companion. Someone with whom she could build a new life. But Aziraphale was certainly not this person.

For starters, he was an angel. Even if he stood by her side for many decades, yet Anathema couldn't have a normal life. She couldn't build a family, since angels didn't reproduce. And maybe angels didn't even like to spend a lot of time with humans. Besides, she could clearly see that Aziraphale and Crowley had been together for some time. She could never get him out of the demon's arms.

Or perhaps this is never what Agnes actually prophesied.

 _Some prophecies may be misinterpreted._ the girl thought, sighing.

When the small fire went out, she returned to her cabin. He began to pack her baggage to return to Spain. She had had enough from England and didn't intend to return anytime soon.

But the wheel of fate once again spun beyond expectations.

"Who is it?" she asked as she heard a knock on the door, figuring it was one of her annoying neighbors who mistook the smell of incense with that of weed.

"Miss Device?"

"Aziraphale?!" the girl's heart skipped a beat.

The man entered the hut slowly. He carried a worried expression on his face.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes I am. My mom misses me and she really wants me to tell her everything that happened here. What a great story, wasn't it? ”

"Yes, rather." the man cleared his throat. "And after you go back to your mother's house and give her the full report of our adventure, what do you intend to do?"

"Well, for the first time in my life I have no plan." she sighed and winced. “It's scary, but exciting at the same time. Anyway, I… I…” she tried to avoid the regretful look the angel was giving her. "... well I do not know. But I'll try to do less stupid things than I did this time.”

"You didn't do anything stupid."

“Besides almost putting the whole plan to stop Armageddon losing? Nothing went as planned.”

"And who said things were supposed to have happened otherwise?"

“The prophecies. I should have...!"

“Lass.” Aziraphale held her gently by the shoulders. The warmth of his plump yet delicate hands made Anathema's cheeks flush. “Agnes's book is gone, but are you still stuck with it? Stop thinking you did everything wrong! Want to meet someone who has surely done everything wrong from the beginning? The _very_ beginning? You are looking at this person now! I am the greatest angelic disaster that ever existed in Creation. ”

"Don't say that!" the witch seemed disgusted with that statement. “You're the angel who saved mankind! The only angel who really cared about this world! To me, you're the best angel ever! I mean, not that I've ever met a lot of angels, but you're the most spectacular I've ever met!”

The man widened his eyes and then smiled, flushed. His hands came from her shoulders to gently hold Anathema's face.

"What a coincidence! I also think you're the most spectacular human woman I have ever met! And I met many, many indeed! After all, what other girl would have the courage and tenacity to carry such a heavy burden throughout her life? Not to mention her incredible fiber and good taste in literature. And also..."

Without letting the angel finish his speech, the witch kissed him. The blonde returned the gesture, hugging her and kissing her back deeply. The two stayed in each other's arms for a long time, unable to separate.

"I don't want to leave," the girl muttered, her face buried in Aziraphale's shoulder. "But ... but I can't stay."

"Who says you can't?"

“No one but… I… there's nothing for me here. I mean, you're with Crowley, aren't you? ”

"Why does everyone think this?"

"Aren't you...?" Anathema lifted her face from the angel's shoulder, visibly surprised.

"Uh, what do you humans call these days?" the man looked up thoughtfully. "Ah yes! ‘Friend with benefits’, this is the name you can give to my relationship with Crowley. Sometimes we are together, but most of the time we are apart. He's not a good companion, you know? Nor is he very participative in a relationship. There have been times when he slept a whole century! Frankly, I'm sick of just being the demon's toy. I'd love to be, for the first time in six thousand years, with someone who really cared about me.” he looked at the girl sweetly. "Someone whom I'd be honored to be a guardian angel."

“Oh! So are you… err… available?”

“Just for you, dear girl. If you want to be with a clumsy angel and book thief. ”

"Oh, I would usually consult a prophecy to make such an important decision."

"And what now?"

Anathema replied with a kiss. The two embraced again and this time stayed like this for a long time. Aziraphale's wings manifested, enveloping both of them. The girl's curly black hair was flying loose with the whirlwind of wings.

Outside the cabin, the last vestiges of the pages of Agnes Nutter's new book flew in the wind. And a small piece of scorched paper still readable one last prophecy.

_... fyre will break the chains of fate, while love will be born amid whyte blessed feathers and strains of iberian black locks._


End file.
